Showing posts with label Eileen Sheehan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eileen Sheehan. Show all posts

Sunday, July 26, 2026

SPOTLIGHT w/EXCERPT - PNR THRILLER - NIGHT TIMES TRILOGY by Eileen Sheehan

The darkest hour is only the beginning in the world of shadows.


Night Times Trilogy
by Eileen Sheehan
Genre: Paranormal Vampire Romance Thriller

Get the Night Times Trilogy Box Set Here!

Night Times Book One
Night Times Trilogy, #1


For two hundred years, Ethan has haunted the shadows, carrying the heartbreak of losing Judith, the wife he loved before he was unwillingly turned into a vampire.

When he meets Arabella at a costume party, he's stunned by the similarities she shares with Judith. As their connection deepens, Ethan becomes convinced that Arabella is Judith reborn. But with her returning memories come dangerous secrets—knowledge from a centuries-old vampire-hunting society that could threaten the existence of every vampire alive.

Now, hunted by both a ruthless Vampire League and relentless vampire hunters, Ethan and Arabella find themselves caught in a deadly struggle between love, loyalty, and survival. As enemies close in and the past refuses to stay buried, Ethan must choose between losing Arabella forever or offering her the immortality that was forced upon him.

Night Times (Book One) begins a captivating vampire romance thriller trilogy that is filled with, forbidden love, deadly secrets, and a passion that defies time itself.

 

What readers are saying:

 

“For fans of supernatural thrillers involving vampires, Night Times has got everything they crave... Sheehan has created yet another immersive fantastical world full of vampires, witches, and monster hunters. The book is fast-paced, and since I was enjoying it so much, the pages just flew by….You're going to love this!”

 “… Sheehan doesn’t just focus on romance. She digs into what love and trust really mean when everything’s on the line. There’s also a raw look at what it means for a vampire to lose their humanity—how turning immortal tears you away from who you used to be, and from people you once knew. Immortality in this story isn’t just sparkling and forever-young; it comes with a price: isolation, loss, and sometimes the fading of your own sense of self. Still, there’s a flip side—it can mean never-ending love and the fierce desire to protect…… If you’re in the mood for a supernatural drama that goes beyond the usual tropes—one that really leans into the pain, the memories, and the kind of love that won’t quit—this book is definitely worth your time.”

Amazon * AppleBookbub * Goodreads



Prologue


The rain came down in silver threads and turned the road to black glass on the night that Ethan’s reality was changed forever.

He remembered that more clearly than he remembered his own face from that time. Faces changed in memory. They were smoothed by years and grief until they became something like paintings. But weather remained exact. The smell of wet earth. The sting of cold through wool. The way the world looked when it was nearly dark and every lamp in the distance seemed to float like a warning.

He had been running then from the thing that had already happened to him.

He had not yet learned that becoming a vampire did not feel like entering a new life. It felt like being torn from the old one with enough violence to leave a permanent shape in the soul. At first there had been only pain, then thirst, then a terrifying clarity that came with the hunger. He had not completely grasped what he was but that realization was soon to come.

And because he had understood that, he had run.

He stood now beneath the branches of the elm at the edge of the lane with the rain slipping through the leaves onto his face while he watched the light in his own house glow through the windows.

Home. The word struck him with unbearable force.

Inside, his wife and love of his life, Judith, would be setting down her sewing and folding the blanket over the arm of the chair. She would be waiting for him, although she might pretend not to be. She always pretended not to wait, as if waiting was too revealing a sort of love. But Ethan had always known. He had known by the way that she paused when she heard his footstep and by the way that she turned before he spoke while already smiling.

He’d spent three hours pacing the woods beyond the property line while fighting his own body as if it was a wild animal. His mouth still burned. His throat ached with a need so vast that it felt like a second heart beating where his was supposed to be. He had torn at his own cuff, bitten the inside of his mouth until it bled, and shoved his hands into the mud to keep from running back to the house.

The problem was that he could still smell her….

 

…“Stay where you are,” he gruffly ordered.

Her mouth slightly parted with fear. “You’re frightening me.”

He could not bear that. Not from her.

The room wavered at the edge of his vision. Hunger rose up in him with a vicious, animal certainty. And for one impossible instant he saw her as prey - not Judith, not wife, not the woman who had braided ribbons into her hair and fallen asleep reading beside the fire, but a pulse of life that he could take with one movement.

He stumbled backward.

Judith’s expression changed to alarm as she exclaimed, “Ethan!”

“No!” he bellowed. The word came out raw.

The flame shivered as she set the candle down too quickly and took a step toward him. “Tell me what happened.”

He violently shook his head. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth again, although he knew there was no wound there now. “You must not come near me.”…

 

…When Judith finally spoke, her voice was broken but steady. “Ethan.”

He closed his eyes. “Yes?”

Her voice trembled as she said, “Do not disappear from my life forever.”

That was the moment when he nearly broke. He put one hand on the doorframe to steady himself. When he spoke, his voice was almost gone. “I will try not to.”

Then he stepped out into the rain and left the house before the dawn could find him.

He never forgot the sound of the door closing behind him. He never forgot the way that Judith had stood in the light, frightened and loving and still reaching for him. And for the centuries that followed, through blood, hunger, survival, and loneliness so deep that it became a second skin, he carried one unbearable truth with him - the night he abandoned Judith, he had not yet understood that immortality was not the curse.

The curse was living long enough to remember the exact shape of the love that you were forced to leave behind.





Night Times Book Two
Night Times Trilogy, #2


Arabella was supposed to be dead.

After faking her death to escape the vampires who want her gone, Arabella and Ethan disappear into Las Vegas, hoping to build a life free from fear, secrets, and bloodshed.

For six months, they succeed.

Then Olive discovers the truth.

Obsessed with Ethan and unwilling to accept his love for another woman, Olive sets out to destroy everything they've built. As jealousy turns to vengeance, Ethan and Arabella are thrust into a nightmare that will change them forever.

Filled with danger, betrayal, suspense, and immortal love, Night Times: Book Two is a gripping paranormal romance about how far people will go for love—and how deadly obsession can become.

Amazon * Apple * Bookbub * Goodreads

 




Night Times Book Three
Night Times Trilogy, #3

Arabella survived death, but immortality comes with a price.

As she learns to embrace life as a vampire under Ethan's guidance, the memories of her torture and murder refuse to fade. While vampire society struggles to accept her return, Arabella secretly plots revenge against the vampires responsible for her suffering—including the woman who wanted her dead.

One by one, her enemies begin to disappear.

As fear spreads through the vampire community and suspicion grows, Arabella must balance her thirst for vengeance with the future she's building alongside Ethan. But some wounds can only heal in darkness, and some debts can only be paid in blood.

Night Times: Book Three is a dark paranormal romance filled with vengeance, passion, secrets, and a love strong enough to survive death.

Amazon * Apple * Bookbub * Goodreads







Eileen Sheehan is an Internationally published, Best Selling and Award-Winning author of paranormal romance thrillers & horror for the mature adult. A professional and full-time spiritual advisor and holistic practitioner for over 30 years, the majority of her 76+ novels feature the paranormal, but some are novels about people in love, and a very few are self-help. Eileen incorporates experiences through the years along with her imagination to provide the best believable and entertaining read possible. As the years progressed, so has her writing style. Although she still includes romance and strives for a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and a touch of horror in them.

A former busy working mother (who is now a laid-back grandmother), Eileen understands the value of time. She makes it a point to write novels that are able to be enjoyed in one or two evenings.

Website * Facebook * FB Group * Instagram * Bluesky * TikTok * Bookbub * Goodreads

 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Enter the Night Times Trilogy Giveaway Here



Presented by

Wednesday, October 18, 2023

HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR - - AISLING: In the Land of Wolves by Eileeen Sheehan



Mini Pumpkin Cheesecakes


Ingredients

CRUST
graham crackers (full sheets)
1/4 tsp. salt 
5 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted

FILLING
8 oz softened cream cheese
3 tblsp packed brown sugar
2 tblsp maple syrup
1 lg egg
1 egg yolk
1 can pumpkin puree
1 tsp vanilla

Instructions

For the crust: 

Preheat the oven to 350˚. 

Line a standard 12-cup muffin tin with liners. 

Place the graham crackers in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until fine crumbs form. 

Add the brown sugar and salt and continue to pulse. 

Drizzle in the melted butter and process until the crumbs are moist. 

Scoop a heaping tablespoonful of the graham cracker crumb mixture into each muffin liner. 

Press the crumbs flat into the bottom of each cup with the bottom of a measuring cup or drinking glass. 

Bake the crusts for 5 minutes, until golden. 

Transfer the muffin tin to a wire rack to cool while you prepare the filling.

For the filling: 

Beat the cream cheese, brown sugar, and maple syrup in a large bowl with an electric mixer at medium-high speed for 2 to 3 minutes, until combined and fluffy. 

Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. 

Lower the mixer speed and beat in the egg and egg yolk just until incorporated. 

Beat in the pumpkin, and vanilla until combined. 

Beat in the cornstarch, spices, and salt. 

Divide the cheesecake filling evenly among the 12 cups, filling each about 3/4 of the way full. 

Bake 10 to 12 minutes, until the edges are set and dry, and centers are slightly jiggly.


Cool the cheesecakes in the pan on a wire rack for 30 minutes. 

Transfer to the refrigerator for at least 1 hour, until cooled completely. 

To serve, remove the cheesecakes from the pan and peel away the liners. 

Arrange cheesecakes on a serving platter and garnish with whipped cream.


AISLING: In the Land of Wolves
Aisling Trilogy, #1
by Eileen Sheehan
Date of Publication: June 17th 2023
Cover Artist: Eileen Sheehan
Genre: Paranormal, Thriller, Romance
ISBN: 979-8398829426
ASIN:  B0C8GFMT74
Number of pages: 486
Word Count: 67,137


Tagline: Join Aisling as she navigates a world filled with magic, love, and danger.


BLURB
Join Aisling as she navigates a world filled with magic, love, and danger. A victim of bullying, Aisling is transported to a land and time she knows nothing about. 

But with the help of a community of powerful witches, she discovers a strength within herself that she never knew existed. 

As she faces challenges and falls in love, Aisling becomes a fearless and self-assured woman.

Amazon     BN     Kobo     Apple


Prologue
I have come to the conclusion that there can be mean girls in any species. They are not just amongst the humans. They are not limited to the teen years, either.  Although, they seem to be more prevalent during that time. What led me to this conclusion was simple experience.  You see, I was a victim of mean girls of the worst type starting at a rather sensitive age.
The mean girl abuse didn’t start until I was in my mid-teens and my mother moved us from a small West Virginia township with a population of twenty-two that was located about two hours from Washington, DC to a community that just managed to qualify as a city with its population of twenty-five-thousand and ten. It was located just over the Virginia border, which shortened my mother’s drive to her monthly meeting of the witch wannnabes in downtown DC by an hour.
The little township of Bloomsburg, West Virginia consisted, mostly, of my blood relatives which were either the Loftus or the O’Shea - all of whom were fascinated with witchcraft.  To my knowledge, however, none had been able to truly master it.
The small city of Meddleson, Virginia was void of any of my kin other than those in my household - my mother, one older half-brother, and one older half-sister - both of whom left for college before we were even settled in. It did, however, possess a closely knit community of actual practicing witches. It was my mother’s hope to be able to rub elbows with these magic practitioners and finally learn the art. She insisted that witchcraft was in our blood and it was simply lost to time and oppression. If we could mix and mingle with those who had not lost it, we would surely get it back.
At the time, I had no interest in learning or practicing magic, nor could I understand why my family felt it was such an important talent to possess.
My half-siblings’ father died in a car accident when they were quite young. He was the love of my mother’s life. No matter what room in our home that you might venture into, you  were sure to find at least one photo of him.  
I never knew my own father. Nor was there a photo of him for me to see. Whenever I would ask my mother to tell me about him, she would insist that he was nothing more than a sperm donor who had passed through our little borough in the night and I was to give him no more thought than that.

Although I found it disappointing, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as the intense emotion that I would sense pouring from every pore of my mother’s body whenever I brought up the subject of my father.  She would visibly tremble with what I had assumed was the desire to see him dead, or, at the very least, castrated and paraded, naked, through the streets.



Author Info
Sitting at her antique rolltop desk in her home in upstate New York, Internationally Published and Award Winning author, Eileen Sheehan, writes steamy romance thrillers for the mature adult with a sexy male and strong female. The majority of her novels are paranormal, but some are just plain novels about people in love. As the years progressed, so did her writing style. Although she still includes romance and has a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and horror in them.

She makes it a point to write a novel length that will allow the busy readers to be able to sit down in an evening (no more than two) and be taken on a journey that was created by her active imagination without having a week go by before they gets to the end of the story.

An incurable romantic, she has a love affair with at least one of her characters... one book at a time. She hopes the same thing happens to you.

Eileen started out as a freelance writer for periodical magazines and newspapers. From there, she tried her hand at writing screenplays. Her screenplay, "When East Meets West" was a finalist in the 2001 Independent International Film and Video Festival at Madison Square Gardens, NYC. Finally finding her niche, she lets her imagination loose with paranormal romance/thrillers. 

If you want to see more quality writings at a reasonable price, please support her efforts by leaving a review and becoming a follower


http://www.sheehan-author.info 
http://www.eileensheehan.info 
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/eileen-sheehan 
https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B016YANRJ0 
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/EileenSheehan 
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14219489.Eileen_Sheehan 

Rafflecopter Giveaway



Hosted by
Presented by

Friday, October 6, 2023

HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR - PARANORMAL THRILLER - VAMPIRE INIQUITY (Tugurlan Chronicles, #1) by Eileen Sheehan



The Werewolf Lure by Eileen Sheehan

In the night when the moon is full, I listen to the howling of the beasts

They speak to each other with a sound all their own as they call to gather for the feast

Both man and beast they are combined from a curse made long ago

They walk as man both day and night until the full moon the beast does show

A strange thing happens deep within when I hear the cursed call in the wild

I let blood and body obey the lure to become the moon’s beast child.


Vampire Iniquity 
Tugurlan Chronicles, #1
by Eileen Sheehan
Date of Publication: January 11th 2016
Publisher: Earth Wise Books
Cover Artist: Eileen Sheehan
Genre: Paranormal-thriller-romance
ISBN: 978-1726747400
ASIN:  ‎ B01AIJ7NWK
Number of pages:546
Word Count: 90,471


Tagline: Join Dan on his journey of discovery as he not only learns that vampires exist, but that he has inherited the gift of being a slayer.


BLURB
Enter a dark and dangerous world that is filled with vampires, cannibalism, and human trafficking in the award winning novel, "Vampire Iniquity", Book One of the "Tugurlan Chronicles". 

When Dan gets tangled up in a rescue mission to save his friend's fiancé, he is taken on a journey of self-discovery and family secrets. Battling against egotistical Dracula descendants, he soon learns of his family's legacy as vampire slayers. 

With the help of his cousin, they must enter the den of iniquity once again to rid the wolf of these evil beings. But, will they be successful? And, at what cost? Find yourself on the edge of your seat in this thrilling and captivating read.

Vampire Iniquity Audio Sample https://bit.ly/3sDwmaR


Amazon      BN     Apple     Kobo     Audible     Smashwords

I lay sleeping in the fetal position on the damp earthen floor of my cell as a hazy light filtered through the small windows. The clanking of heavy metal as a pair of large hairy hands unlocked the cage door brought me quickly to the alert.
My eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and I was able to see a fair bit of my surroundings. I rose up slowly, staring in disbelief as an enormous man-wolf-like creature reached down and put both of his hairy hands under my arms. He picked me up off my feet as if I was nothing more than a rag doll and held me dangling in the air. Without warning, the creature slammed me down so hard I was sure my feet were going to be repositioned above my head. I was given only a brief moment of reprieve to catch my balance before I was pushed out of the cage.
Puffs of dank dust swirled around my head as I stumbled and landed on the dungeon floor. I was grateful for my martial arts training and my understanding of going with the motion instead of fighting it. Shifting my body, I spun back into a crouched balance. I had no idea what this creature planned on doing with me but I was determined to go down fighting. I wouldn’t make it easy for the ugly beast, you could bet money on that.
“I bet you are wondering how a damp, dusty basement of this nature can exist in the desert,” came a voice through the darkness. “You would be surprised what exists beyond your realms of reality.”
I spun toward the voice as Dumitru’s tall, well-built figure stepped out from the depths of the shadows. The favorite son of Wadim and his first wife -an Italian Countess who Wadim captured and turned vampire centuries ago- there was no guessing at his ancestry. His sharp, vampire features were accentuated by rich, thick, glistening black hair that was tied snuggly at the base of his neck. Taught muscles bulged beneath the flowing material of his linen shirt. The ruffles at the neck and cuffs seemed out of place on his lean, muscular body.
Although at first glance he looked Caucasian, as I looked more closely I could see his Asian ancestry; especially in his eyes.
“My father has many talents,” the newcomer said. A chuckle, that almost resembled a growl, oozed from his evil sneer. “Stand up!”
I rose slowly, rubbing my sore muscles absent mindedly as I did. Purple welts were beginning to form on my forearms from my encounter with the wolf-man.
“Wu’s star pupil is injured?” He said sarcastically. He reached out and grabbed my arm with such force I was hard pressed to keep my balance. “Well, we cannot have that. I want you in perfect form when we fight.”
I couldn’t hold back the gag reaction my body had from the putrid stench of flesh and blood on Dumitru’s breath ....




Author Info
Sitting at her antique rolltop desk in her home in upstate New York, Internationally Published and Award Winning author, Eileen Sheehan, writes steamy romance thrillers for the mature adult with a sexy male and strong female. The majority of her novels are paranormal, but some are just plain novels about people in love. As the years progressed, so did her writing style. Although she still includes romance and has a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and horror in them.

She makes it a point to write a novel length that will allow the busy readers to be able to sit down in an evening (no more than two) and be taken on a journey that was created by her active imagination without having a week go by before they gets to the end of the story.

An incurable romantic, she has a love affair with at least one of her characters... one book at a time. She hopes the same thing happens to you.

Eileen started out as a freelance writer for periodical magazines and newspapers. From there, she tried her hand at writing screenplays. Her screenplay, "When East Meets West" was a finalist in the 2001 Independent International Film and Video Festival at Madison Square Gardens, NYC. Finally finding her niche, she lets her imagination loose with paranormal romance/thrillers. 

If you want to see more quality writings at a reasonable price, please support her efforts by leaving a review and becoming a follower

http://www.sheehan-author.info 
http://www.eileensheehan.info 
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/eileen-sheehan 
https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B016YANRJ0 
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/EileenSheehan 
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14219489.Eileen_Sheehan 

Rafflecopter Giveaway



Hosted by
Presented by

Monday, October 2, 2023

HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR - PNR THILLER - VAMPIRE WITCH (Vampire Witch Trilogy, #1) by Eileen Sheehan


Ghost Dream by Eileen Sheehan

I first saw a photograph of the abandoned house on Twelve Maple Lane about a decade ago. My immediate impression was what a wonderful inn it would make for those who appreciated the days gone by.  So, without so much as a walk through, I bought it.

It was nightfall when I approached the old house that had been wholly unoccupied for years with reverence and a touch of trepidation. Its residents had long left it to the mercy of rodents, dust, and cobwebs. I felt as if I was invading the privacy of the ghosts who were left behind. Ghosts of occupants over the centuries since the building was little more than an idea in the mind of the builder.

Holding my flashlight firmly in one hand, I turned the porcelain doorknob that would allow me entry. It, like the door, was cracked with age. My mind pondered over how many hands had turned that knob and pushed their way into this dwelling in its glory days. Days when vibrantly colorful rooms glowed with the softness of gas and candle light and radiated laughter and happiness. My ponderings quickly left me when, for the first time in my life, my level head -that had always ignored and given no credence to superstition- experienced an overwhelming dread as an invisible cobweb clung to my face. I shuddered. It was only a cobweb, but it felt as if I’d walked through someone. Or, better yet, someone had walked through me.

Like a frightened child, I rushed to the one room that I had made certain was prepared for my occupancy by the workmen who were hired for the house’s resurrection. As I locked the door, a sense of security swept over me. I had not only locked out the moldy darkness, but the eerie feeling of unseen eyes was no longer hovering about. Someone had been thoughtful enough to make sure that there was a cheery fire burning in the oversized fireplace. Its flickering flames did wonders to give a sense of warmth and safety to the room. I sat down before it with a comforting sense of relief. The electricity was turned off, requiring the soft flickering lights of candles to illuminate my surroundings. Seeing the antique furnishings in such ambiance brought up visions of days gone by.

From the color and print of the faded wallpaper, and the delicacy of the bed and dressing table, I deduced that the room had once belonged to the gentler sex. I closed my eyes as I allowed my imagination to summon visions of faces out of the mists of the past. Faces that were long forgotten and voices that long ago grew silent for all time.

As a storm brewed outside of the thick leaded window panes, my reverie shifted to sadness. The singing of the voices from the past was replaced by the shrieking of the winds outside. The laughter in the ears of my mind shifted to a softened wail. The incessant beating of the rain against the panes stripped the room of all tranquility. The eeriness that I’d left beyond the closed door slowly crept through the cracks beneath it.

A nervousness overtook me as the fire burned low. An overwhelming sense of loneliness consumed me. Eager to shake it, I arose and changed into my night clothes. I moved about the room, stealthily preparing for slumber as if I was amongst others whose dreams would be lethal to interrupt. Diving onto the mattress, I slithered beneath the covers. With my head barely exposed, I lay listening to the rain and wind and the faint creaking of distant shutters until a blissful, deep sleep overtook me.

The acute stillness of the home when I awoke filled me with a shuddering expectancy. All, but the beating of my heart, was silent as I lay in the pre-dawn light while I debated what to do. The workmen would not arrive for several hours. My stomach was announcing the need for the breaking of my fast, but my cowardly nerves refused to budge. So, I lay in the warmth and false security of my bed until an unseen force took matters into hand.

Slowly. Very slowly, the bedclothes slid toward the foot of the bed. It was as if someone was pulling them from me. Instead of being too nervous to move, I was now scared stiff. Not only couldn’t I move a muscle, but I could make no sound. I finally regained control of my body enough to allow me to grab the edge of the blankets and pull them back over my breast until they reached my chin. It took an even greater effort to pull them over my head. Beads of nervous sweat formed upon my forehead as a result.

I lay in frozen silence while I waited for what might happen next.

After a brief interval, that steady pull on the coverings returned. I roused my energies, snatched the covers with a vice grip, and pulled them over my head again. Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps permeated my room. I felt a sense of relief that they sounded like they were moving away from me instead of toward me. When the footsteps reached the bedroom door, I waited for the creaking sound of it opening and closing, but it didn’t come. The footsteps, however, continued to exit the room and fade as they walked further into the empty house.

I lay trembling while contemplating what just happened until I had myself convinced that it was a dream. My nerves were further soothed when I crawled out of bed and found that the bedroom door was still bolted on the inside.

The day passed as normal. I exerted a good deal of emotional energy overseeing the workmen in my effort to keep the integrity of the old house in place. Once nightfall arrived and the men retired, I eagerly took my exhausted self to my bedroom once again.

I had just blown out the candle and snuggled beneath the bedclothes when I heard a grating noise overhead. It sounded like a heavy box was being dragged across the floor. When the dragging sound ended, a loud thud occurred. It was so loud that the windows shook.

Beyond my locked bedroom door, I could hear the muffled sound of doors slamming throughout the house.

A part of me wanted to get up and search for intruders, while the other part of me said to stay put and wait to see what would happen. I regretted not taking the precaution against intruders by having a bat or some other type of self-defense weapon in my room as I listened to the sound of stealthy footsteps creeping about the corridors, as well as up and down the stairs.

Sometimes these noises stopped outside of my bedroom door, hesitated, and went away again. I heard muffled sentences and occasional half-uttered screams that were faint, but discernable. Then, a light breeze passed by me as the swish of invisible garments reached my ears.

The eerie feeling that I’d felt the night before returned with a forcefulness unmatched. I sat up in bed and held my hand to my heart while I did my best to slow the beating that threatened to get out of control. Unlike the night before when the fireplace was ablaze with illuminating light, I had lit only a small fire that rapidly turned to embers. With the candles snuffed out, I was forced to rely on the glow of the embers and the filtered rays of the full moon through the window to see my surroundings. The shadows bounced about, but I was still able to make out a cloaked figure hovering in the corner of the room.

“Who are you and what do you want?” I nervously asked. The figure remained silent as it slowly moved toward me.

“This is my home,” I said with a boldness that I didn’t feel.  “You are not welcome.”

“Why do you wish to have this home?” the figure asked in a deep voice that had a hint of echo to it.

Surprised by the question, I was even more surprised by the way I calmly replied with, “I wish to bring it back to its glory days and to share it with others.”

“Glory days?” the figure mockingly said. “Those were times long gone. The house belongs to me now.”

“I purchased this house,” I insisted. “I have the deed to it.”

“You may have the deed, but I have lived in it,” the figure argued. “It belongs to me. You will leave.”

Fear was replaced by indignation over the shadowy figure’s demand that I leave a home that I’d put so much of my heart and soul into and would require even more before its beauty could shine through once more.

“If you care so much for this home,” I challenged, “Why have you let it go into such disrepair?”

“It is as I desire it to be,” the figure firmly announced.

“It is not as I desire it,” said a female’s voice from seemingly nowhere.

“Josephine!” the figure bellowed. “Why have you come?”

“I never left,” the voice replied. “I simply saw no reason to negate your occupancy until now.”

“Why now?” the figure asked.

“Finally, there is someone who is willing to return the life and love to the walls of my home,” Josephine said. “I have cried decades of tears for want of such a thing to occur. Now that it has, I will not allow you to prevent it. You must go.”

“I have occupied this place too long for you to be able to push me out,” the figure bitterly announced.

“Perhaps, if it were just myself doing the pushing,” Josephine said with conviction.

Too stunned and amazed by what was occurring before my very eyes, I stayed motionless while I listened to what I discovered to be two discarnate beings verbally debating over who should take control of the house that I now owned. I was tempted to ask them both to leave, since the house now belonged to me, but, since I was only now being exposed to the reality of a world beyond the here and now, I was uncertain what the protocol for such a request would be. So, instead, I remained stoic and silent while I waited to see what the outcome of this verbal debate might be.

To my surprise and dismay, the arguing grew quite potent. So potent, in fact, that the stillness of the air left the room. It was replaced by what I could only describe as a violent wind. The bedroom door rattled, along with the windows. A fleeting fear that the glass might shatter flashed through my head before my attention was turned to the fact that the room seemed to expand in the darkness as the figure of a woman in a Victorian gown appeared before me.

Although I had already become aware of the presence of the cloaked figure, he was merely a shadow. This woman, on the other hand, was as opaque as myself.

She was neatly put together with not one hair out of place. Her dress was of vibrant colors that glowed in the moonlight. As I stared in startled wonderment, several equally opaque spirits, both male and female, in Victorian attire joined her. Soon, the room was filled with what I inherently knew were former occupants of the grand house.

The shadowy figure stood his ground, alone against a roomful of spirits wanting him out. At first, as the energy he projected blew like a hurricane through the room to the extent that I clung fast to the bedpost, I thought for sure that he would win. It took a moment for them to gather together with hands firmly clasped, but when they did, the wind changed direction and forced the shadow into oblivion.

I sat in silence on the edge of the bed while I debated what to do next. The spirits faded away, one by one, until only Josephine remained.

“You need not fear us,” Josephine said. “We are pleased that you bring to this home the life and love that it deserves. It has been our desire for decades. We will protect you and it from this moment on.”

With that, she also faded away.

Feeling safe and satisfied, I silently smiled and retreated to the security of my bedcovers. Within moments, I fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.

I awoke the following morning to the sounds of workmen bustling about the house. Surprised that I’d slept for so long, I raced to join them. As the day progressed, my thoughts, and memories of the battle between spirits the night before faded. By the time nightfall returned, I considered it nothing more than a vivid dream.

The restoration of the house continued until it was restored to its original glory with no more incidents from the unseen world. Since there were no more bumps in the night, bedclothes mysteriously sliding off me on their own, or spirits appearing before me, I eventually completely dismissed the dream as a reaction to the unsavory ambiance of a neglected home.

Today, I operate an historic inn that offers tours that are accompanied by the history of the house and its occupants that I acquired from the local library and town records. On rare occasions, I will receive a report from one of my overnight guests reporting vivid dreams of a woman in Victorian dress smiling as she stands at the foot of their bed.



Vampire Witch
Vampire Witch Trilogy, #1
by Eileen Sheehan
Date of Publication: January 1st 2016
Publisher: Earth Wise Books
Genre: Paranormal/thriller/romance
ISBN: 978-1726737524
ASIN:  ‎ B0195YJ1Q0
Number of pages: 378
Word Count: 91,903


Tagline: She falls for two handsome vampire brothers. Now, she must choose.... Lovers of VAMPIRE DIARIES or TRUE BLOOD will enjoy this story.


BLURB
Discovering the mother that you thought was dead for over a decade is very much alive will shake your world.

And so begins Casey's dilemma. Add to that her mother has become a mutant vampire and has promised her in marriage to a wicked vampire king in order to unite the two kingdoms. Now, let’s combine that with the fact that the bearer of such news is a hot and sexy guy who turns out to be a vampire and he steals her heart. Then, to top it off she finds that he has an equally hot vampire brother vying for her love and who she just might have feelings for too.

Ready or not, Casey's life just took a turn for the strange.

Join Casey in this sizzling, action-packed first book of a paranormal romance thriller trilogy.

Book Trailer: https://bit.ly/3PDgAWJ

Amazon      BN     Kobo     Apple     Smashwords


Luthias groaned and raised his hand to his head.  Gwendoline was at his side in a flash.  She lifted him into a position that allowed him to easily drink the liquid she held to his lips and then lowered him back down again.
“This will help him regain a bit of his strength, but he’ll still need blood,” she said. She went to a tall refrigerator in the corner of the room and inspected its contents. “I doubt I have enough to bring him back to normal.”
“How much do you need?” I asked.
“He’s almost bled dry,” she said.  “I have enough to keep him alive, but not much more than that.”
I bit my lower lip while I watched Gwendoline pull every bag of blood she had in her supplies and place them on a tea cart to roll next to the table.  She emptied the first bag into a glass and urged him to drink.  He weakly obliged. By the time she’d fed him the last bag, the hollow around his sunken eyes was beginning to disappear and his wounds were starting to shrink.
I pointed this out to Gwendoline and she smiled faintly.
“If he has more blood will they heal completely?” I asked.
“Within seconds,” she said.
“Where does he usually get his blood?” I asked hesitantly.
“He hunts deer or wolf. Large animals are generally the best,” she replied.
“No humans,” I mused admiringly.
“Verso vampires refrain from drinking human blood whenever possible.  The risk of developing an addiction is too great,” she explained. “We live peacefully amongst ourselves and rarely venture out into the rawness of what’s left of our planet. An addiction to human blood would require they leave Verso.”
“There are some who drink it,” I said.  “A maid told me humans don’t last long in Verso because rogue vampires drink their blood until they’re dead.”
“That’s true,” she said with a nod. “It takes a strong vampire to be able to stop drinking a human’s blood before they drain them dry. In my centuries of life, I’ve known of only a few who could do it.”
“Is it the magic that keeps you alive?” I asked.
“Indeed,” she replied with pride. “As it will ye.”
“I plan on becoming a vampire,” I reminded her.
“Yes, but until ye do, the magic will slow down the aging process,” she explained. “There’s no need to rush things.”
“How old was Geo when he was turned?” I asked while I mindlessly stroked the length Luthias’s arm.
“He was twenty-eight. He had a wife and three children, poor lad,” she said.
 “I never thought about him having a family,” I gasped. “What happened to them?”
“They were killed by the raiding vampires. Geo was saved because of the strong magic in his veins.  Luthias found him and brought him to me to tend to.  He looked much like Luthias does now,” she said.

“When did Luthias turn vampire?” I asked.


Author Info
Sitting at her antique rolltop desk in her home in upstate New York, Internationally Published and Award Winning author, Eileen Sheehan, writes steamy romance thrillers for the mature adult with a sexy male and strong female. The majority of her novels are paranormal, but some are just plain novels about people in love. As the years progressed, so did her writing style. Although she still includes romance and has a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and horror in them.

She makes it a point to write a novel length that will allow the busy readers to be able to sit down in an evening (no more than two) and be taken on a journey that was created by her active imagination without having a week go by before they gets to the end of the story.

An incurable romantic, she has a love affair with at least one of her characters... one book at a time. She hopes the same thing happens to you.

Eileen started out as a freelance writer for periodical magazines and newspapers. From there, she tried her hand at writing screenplays. Her screenplay, "When East Meets West" was a finalist in the 2001 Independent International Film and Video Festival at Madison Square Gardens, NYC. Finally finding her niche, she lets her imagination loose with paranormal romance/thrillers. 

If you want to see more quality writings at a reasonable price, please support her efforts by leaving a review and becoming a follower




Hosted by
Presented by